


i don't want you like a best friend

by tmylm



Series: itch to scratch [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26268748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: Beca’s video shoot forthis prompt.Shout out to the few people that expressed an interest in this addition!
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Series: itch to scratch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908526
Comments: 11
Kudos: 88





	i don't want you like a best friend

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift's _Dress_.

Considering how many people live there, it is incredibly rare that the Bellas’ house is ever _this_ quiet. The place houses many not only loud but also _musical_ people—it is not like Beca can exactly complain about the usual noise level—but she has to admit, it does make _certain_ activities a little more difficult for her.

Of course, not everybody shares her same need for privacy. The amount of times Beca has heard...private noises coming from the room below hers is far more than she would care to admit. Especially considering just _who_ that room belongs to. With that in mind, it is like something of its own brand of torture for Beca, although right now, she cannot help but allow the memory of it to serve as a certain sense of fuel.

And maybe that is kind of sick… Maybe this whole thing is kind of sick, in fact, because it really is not normal to have such intense, inappropriate feelings for someone you openly consider your best friend. But by now, Beca is in a deep hole of those feelings, both sexual and romantic at this point, and it is not one she can even begin to claw her way out of.

(Though, it is certainly not for lack of trying.)

It really doesn’t matter that Beca wants Chloe. It doesn’t matter that she has wanted her for the better part of three years now, in fact. Chloe is her best friend, and while Beca has never tested the theory before, she is positive that nothing good could come from a person romantically pursuing their best friend. This is not a cheesy movie in which everything works out, after all; this is real life, and Beca knows that in real life, the situation would be messy, way too messy to ever even consider dipping her toe into. So, she has herself convinced that she is perfectly content with the way things are.

Because all content people secretly film themselves fucking themselves to the thought of their best friend… Duh.

If Beca had the house to herself more often, the porn star aspect of this whole idea wouldn’t be completely necessary. However, this itch to scratch creeps up more frequently than Beca would like to admit, and while she doesn’t always get the chance to tend to it, she thinks that perhaps the video reminder will be some form of helpful; she will have something to look back on, to remind her of that one time she got to do this with as much of Chloe Beale as she will ever realistically get.

Maybe that is not the best justification for doing this, for scratching this particular itch in this particular way. But to Beca, it _is_ justified, it is playing out an unreachable situation that she wishes so badly could be true, and doing so in the least harmful way possible. Those lingering looks and those unspoken words, that is all they’ll ever be. Beca knows that is all they ever can be. As she stares at her computer, lid closed for now, that is Beca’s justification, her validation; that is all she needs.

With less natural confidence than certain other people who happen to live under this very same roof, Beca really does not make a habit of walking around pants-less. Even now, when she is the only one home, when she is about to do what she is about to do, she wears an old, comfortable band tee and a pair of baggy pajama shorts. It is almost risqué for her, the fact that she is not wearing underwear. Eventually, however, the bottom layer is shed—albeit hesitantly—before Beca slides cautiously onto her single mattress, ready to position her camera in the ideal view.

It is still running through her mind, the idea that this whole thing is kind of sick, as Beca sets her laptop on the bottom edge of the bed. Though, it is difficult for her to ignore her one-track mind right now, so her level of hesitance is not enough to actually stop her.

Truth be told, Beca doesn’t know if anybody even uses Photo Booth anymore—she knows she certainly hasn’t since high school—but she is sure that, if they do, it is not for the reason she is about to. Regardless, Beca pulls up the application with a somewhat shaky finger, momentarily disgusted with herself as her own reflection sparks obtrusively into view.

Strategically tilting the lid—she _really_ doesn’t want her face in the video—she decides against giving herself any more time to deliberate, and instead taps the cursor over the record button. There is an odd mixture of nerves and excitement within her as the three-second timer begins to count down—fortunately, somehow, the latter seems to outweigh the former, so Beca decides against turning back. It is not as if anyone is _making_ her do this, of course. It just...it just feels kind of important.

Save for the coy look she shoots toward the screen, Beca truly does not intend to give her face any actual screen time, so it is done rather quickly, the way she pushes herself backward on the mattress until the camera can capture her only from the shoulders down.

It takes a second or two for her to actually move, to actually get into the mindset that this isn’t just her sitting like some creep on her bed, literally filming herself masturbating, and that it is instead the scenario she plans to envision. Eventually, however, Beca’s lids flutter shut, a somewhat shaky hand dropping to graze her fingertips beneath the loose fabric of her shirt. Despite her nerves, once the image of Chloe’s face pops into her mind, it proves easy to think of her own hand as Chloe’s touching her, as the fingers grazing feather lightly over her skin as Chloe’s delicate fingers instead.

Releasing a shaky breath, Beca’s hand rises further upward, until she can run the pad of her finger over the peak of her nipple. It is already a little harder than she would have expected. “Okay,” Beca breathes softly, finger beginning to move in light, small circles over the peak of the stiffening bud. That simple touch, coupled with the thought of Chloe doing this to her—and, somewhere in the back of her mind, the danger of Chloe coming home and potentially catching her at any given moment—proves a major turn on for Beca. In turn, there is a familiar clench between her legs, the distinct feeling of heat spreading beneath the way she slowly parts her bare thighs. With her eyes still closed, head tipped back slightly, she actively avoids the thought of the view in the camera, and focuses on the way her fingertip begins to flicker quickly over pebbled flesh.

“God,” Beca murmurs quietly, palm cupping easily at her breast. She has imagined—on many occasions before now, in fact—the feeling of Chloe’s hands roaming all over her body, of Chloe touching her the way she now touches herself. She imagines it when Chloe lays so closely beside her, when their gazes meet and Beca is left to silently wonder whether Chloe is thinking the same things she is. There is a line and they blur it sometimes, but it becomes less confusing to her now.

And maybe Beca had considered this a stupid idea at first; laughable, even. But as her fingers clutch at her breast, free hand rising from where it rests against the mattress to slowly slip in between her parted legs, Beca realizes that it is easy to get lost in her imagination. It is easy for her to tell herself that she really is getting everything she wants.

Wrapped up already in the moment, her nerves seem to have dissipated as a single finger slides over her already aching clit. The simple touch, the fantasy idea that it is Chloe touching her, causes a soft whimper to fall from Beca’s lips almost instantaneously.

Already, she can feel how wet she is, she can feel the evidence of what this vivid fantasy image is doing to her. Her finger lowers to tease at her entrance, the tip immediately coating in rapidly pooling arousal, and Beca’s teeth sink down automatically into her bottom lip in response. “Fuck,” she whispers, the heat from her slick arousal so deliciously warm as her finger slides almost too easily through neglected swollen folds.

It is instinct to add a second finger, for Beca to want to feel everything with a higher intensity. Other hand still cupping—albeit somewhat lazily now—at her breast, Beca’s focus is on her fingers, on the way they drag softly over her aching clit, kneading down with instant fervor into the sensitive flesh.

With trembling thighs and the distinct feeling of pleasure taking over her entire body already, it is much easier for Beca to lose herself completely, for her head to tip back as two fingers sink easily inside of her dripping cunt. “Fuck, Chloe,” she moans a little louder this time, the name spilling from her lips without prior calculation. The very sound of Chloe’s name echoing around her causes Beca’s thighs to clench momentarily, walls tightening around her fingers.

By now, Beca is too focused on the way her fingers are working her up, so the hand resting almost uselessly against her breast slips out from beneath her shirt to instead settle on the mattress behind her. She uses it to hold herself upright, fingers beginning to sink deeply inside of her, before slipping the whole way out to begin dragging harshly over the aching flesh of her clit. _“Fuck, Chloe,”_ she moans again, tips of her fingers beginning to move in tight, fast circles, until Beca can feel her orgasm beginning to build harshly inside of her very core.

Having leaned further back against the prop of her hand, Beca’s arm shakes as she hits her climax, fingertips rubbing quickly through swollen folds. Chloe’s name spills from her lips between a series of quiet moans and gentle whimpers, until the movement of her hand finally slows, body trembling through her high.

It surprises Beca, the way it really had been so easy for her to really picture exactly what she’d wanted, to picture the fact that it was Chloe touching her, that it was Chloe doing all of those things to her. In a strange way, it is almost cathartic, though the idea of watching the video back anytime soon kind of weirds her out.

It takes a moment for Beca to compose herself, to even out her breathing and straighten up far enough to reach over and shakily cut the Photo Booth recording. She catches a quick glimpse of her face in view of the camera, embarrassed by how flushed she looks, but she doesn’t regret it. It is the notification in the top right corner of her screen that catches Beca’s eye, that has her lids shooting the whole way open as she scrambles to click on the incoming iMessage.

**Chloe  
** _what are you doing?_

The way Beca’s heart races could absolutely be a reflection of the activities of the last little while, but a part of her cannot help but worry about why Chloe would ask her that right now. Hastily, she types up a response.

**Beca  
** _nothing_  
_gonna shower  
_ _why_

As if she is suddenly a woman possessed, her gaze remains fixed on the iMessage window as she awaits Chloe’s reply, chest still rising and falling through her come-down. Fortunately, it comes through quickly, and Beca is able to breathe a small sigh of relief.

**Chloe**  
_i’m bored, i’m gonna head back and pick up pizza on the way_  
_wanna share?_

Admittedly, the idea of hanging out alone with Chloe does feel a little strange right now, all things considered—Beca was literally moaning her name a matter of minutes ago, picturing her touching her in sinful ways. However, it truly is one of Beca’s favorite pastimes, spending time with Chloe, so in spite of herself, she finds that there is a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth in response.

She types up a quick reply, before closing safely out of the Photo Booth application. It is likely that they will watch a movie on Beca’s computer, as per their usual one-on-one hangouts; Beca really doesn’t need Chloe to know that she has just spent the last little while with her consuming her mind—and her body—after all.

In fact, Chloe can never find out, Beca thinks as she mentally reminds herself to change her password after her shower… She doesn’t even want to think about how devastating the consequences could be if she did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! [This is me](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com).


End file.
